


Here You Come With Your Open Hands.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: The Problem Of Hands [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU: Romance Novel, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern, Asexual Enjolras, Asexual Grantaire, Asexuality, Breathing Control, D/s, Discipline, Dominance, Dominant Enjolras, Kinking While Ace, Non-Sexual Dominance, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Podfic Available, Service, Service Submission, Submission, Submissive Grantaire, Trope Bingo: Round Three, asexy kink, non-sexual bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can want to spend my life serving someone and not want to have sex with them," Grantaire says. "I am capable of that. My submission is capable of that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here You Come With Your Open Hands.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from [The Problem of Hands by Louise Mathias](http://www.anonym.to/http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23762). This was originally begun for my AU: Romance Novel square for my Trope Bingo second round card, to be cross-bingoed with my Kink Bingo subspace/headspace square, but then I decided to go with [something else instead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023686). But then I got the square again for Trope Bingo's third round. At some point, you just have to give in to the tropefic inevitability, although I still feel dissatisfied about how this fits/subverts the trope. Well, I tried. (Twice.)

1.

"I can want to spend my life serving someone and not want to have sex with them," Grantaire says. "I am capable of that. My submission is capable of that."

 

2.

Grantaire joined dating sites on the stupid idea that they might be easier. Or, at least, what the hell, they can't be more soul-destroying.

He's tragically mistaken. 

At least usually, the problems start the moment he meets a dominant. Now he's not even that lucky. The bullshit starts from page one. Going up to people in bars, at least, does not involve answering three pages of questions about his sexual preferences.

"Why is None Of The Above never an option?" Grantaire asks Bahorel.

"Because then your life would be too easy and you'd have no reason to dream of a better world," Bahorel says helpfully. 

Grantaire's friends are terrible people.

Bahorel has no sympathy for Grantaire's keenly developed sense of melodrama. "Did I tell you about that dominant from my fencing team? You might like him."

"No," Grantaire says. The last three dominants his friends have helpfully set him up with... well, it didn't go well, let's end it there.

"He says fucking submissives disrespects the gift of their submission," Bahorel says. "And a lot of other things, too."

Grantaire blinks. "Oh. Okay." He blinks again. "Sure, what the hell, why the fuck not. Let's do this."

 

3\. 

Naturally, when he and Enjolras meet, they hate each other. Because Grantaire's life wasn't already enough of a goddamn tragedy. The most gorgeous dominant Grantaire's ever seen and he's smart, too. Quick on his feet, agile, eloquent, just the kind of guy Grantaire would love to spend his life staring up at from his knees.

But the guy. The guy's a fucking asshole.

There's no justice in this world. If there were, Enjolras would be a nice person instead of just looking like one, and Grantaire would charm him and they'd go on a date and live happily ever after and never have sex.

What actually happens is that Grantaire insults Enjolras's intelligence, Enjolras returns the favor, and then it's made perfectly clear that, just because they might have compatible interests in sex (i.e., none), if they stay in the same room too long, they will burn it down.

"My life," Grantaire moans, leaning heavily against the brick wall around the back. " _My life_."

Bahorel pats him on the shoulder. "Enjolras grows on you."

"Like a fungus?"

Bahorel considers it. "Yeah, sometimes."

 

4.

This is the point where, in any decent romance, wacky hijinks would ensue. Grantaire reflects heavily on his life choices and then stridently refuses to consider any of:  
1) Bahorel locking him and Enjolras into a closet together,  
2) Grantaire's tire blowing out and Enjolras conveniently being nearby and helping change it,  
3) Enjolras showing up and offering to model for him for pocket money, or  
4) Grantaire and Enjolras both reaching for the last box of pasta on the shelf and accidentally knocking their heads together

\--to be hijinks.

Or wacky.

And especially not wacky hijinks.

"My fucking life," he says, leaving the grocery store, rubbing at his head. "My fucking life."

 

5.

"I'm serious," Grantaire says, "you have got to stop this."

Bahorel looks confused. "Huh?"

"Stop trying to set us up!" Grantaire says. He's still a bit shell-shocked from this afternoon. "Enjolras changed my tire!" Grantaire feels justified in his emotions here. They are very justified. Completely. "And then he was very wrong about Robespierre and we got coffee and he kept being wrong! For two hours! Their cappuccinos aren't even very good! They're worse than Enjolras's misguided beliefs in regime change!"

Bahorel looks even more confused.

"You locked us in a closet together last week!" Grantaire shouts.

Bahorel frowns at him. Grantaire feels that little stirring that reminds him that Bahorel's a switch and could totally beat his ass for this if he wanted. God help him, that's actually starting to sound pretty good. Maybe that's what he needs, some nice stress relief. A good flogging's always good for that. And he can trust Bahorel not to try to make it sexy, it's not like they've never done it before. Still, it had been a bit weird, and it's not like they disagreed about how they probably shouldn't ever do it again. It's just that Grantaire's getting desperate.

Oh, fuck, he's getting desperate. That's not an attractive look.

But it's not his fault! It's Bahorel's! Bahorel's the one who keeps throwing him at Enjolras, and teasing him with what he could have, if Enjolras weren't the most frustrating dominant to ever cross Grantaire's path. Grantaire wants him to just meet the new boss, same as the old boss, a few thousand times until the point gets into his head. And Enjolras is just a Disney dominant, all blond and hot and tall and clean-shaven, with big hands, big strong hands, big strong hands that would feel amazing against Grantaire's ass, and his shoulders, he's got really great shoulders. And his muscles, mmm. He could really hold Grantaire in place and remind him of that place. It would be fantastic--

He's so doomed.

"I already apologized for that," Bahorel points out. "And it's your fault for napping there."

"I'd been having good dreams, too," Grantaire says mournfully. And then Enjolras had started talking, and then they'd been locked in, because goddamn Bahorel didn't check if the door locked, and then Enjolras had finished his call, and then Grantaire had been _awake_ , and they'd been _so close_ , and Grantaire had been all curled up at Enjolras's feet and--

"Yes, this is such a tragedy," Bahorel says, so dry that Grantaire has to laugh despite himself. Bahorel shakes his head. "The two of you, I swear. It seems like it was just yesterday that Enjolras was telling me about you serenading him outside his window. Oh, wait, it was."

"Oh, come on, that was totally necessary," Grantaire says. "He said he'd never heard--"

Bahorel puts his hand up. "Grantaire. If this were anyone else, what would you say Enjolras is doing?"

Grantaire makes a face. "He doesn't need to woo me."

"Tell him that," Bahorel says gently. "And stop using me as your romantic go-between. It's a tragic waste of my time. The two of you have phones. Call each other."

 

6.

Well, when he says it like that.

 

7.

"Tell me what you're interested in," Enjolras says, and, fuck, it's those questionnaires all over again. Grantaire didn't sign up for this. He did not sign up for any of this. He did not, in fact, sign up for anything at all.

Grantaire slumps low in the chair. "I'm not," he says. "Interested in."

Enjolras nods. "Okay." And he leaves it there, and oh, fuck him, fuck him and his demeanor. Fuck him and that superior frown, that lofty pity, like Grantaire just _isn't good enough_ , even for someone who disdains sex.

"I'm an awesome submissive," Grantaire says, because he really is. Sometimes. When he's not being told that domming him is impossible. "The problem is dominants who think that you have to put out when you go down. I like surrendering myself, I like knowing that I'm serving a dominant and making them happy. I go down, but I don't stay down well, because inevitably, someone grabs my dick or wants me to get them off. I like submission, but I don't see the point of involving genitalia."

"I don't either," Enjolras says. "Genitalia isn't on the table. Tell me what you're interested in. If it actually were nothing, you wouldn't be here."

And it's just on the edge of dominance, fuck, that's an order if he wants to take it as an order, and Grantaire's sitting up straight without consciously deciding to that and he's not sure if he should be meeting Enjolras's eye while he talks to him, but fuck this, fuck the world, Grantaire is _too_ a submissive. He did really well in sex ed! It was great, they talked about submission and trust, and Grantaire got really great grades. But then he went out into the dating world and everyone's imagination was just so goddamn narrow. It became all about the orgasm. That was always the end game; even for people who wanted really elaborate things, it was always about the eventual orgasm. It's so goddamn _boring_ , is what it is. Who cares about giving someone an orgasm when you can serve them a million other ways? Goddamn dominants. They've turned something that Grantaire needs into something he can't seem to get, not the way he wants, never the way he needs. It's a constant tease. It's the worst.

"I want a dominant," he says. "Not a lover. Full stop." Because maybe Enjolras is the one dominant who'll look at him twice, who'll give him what he wants, and nothing of what he doesn't want. Maybe. Hopefully. 

Enjolras smiles at him, with a few too many teeth. Grantaire can't help but stare. "Good," he says, and his voice has dropped right into that dominant tone that always hits the back of Grantaire's head, no matter what kind of shit's being said. Grantaire's doomed. Just doomed.

He finds he really doesn't mind.

 

8.

The first time Grantaire had sex, it had been winter and much too cold. Kneeling naked on cold floors isn't as sexy as romcoms would have you think.

He doesn't know why he's thinking about that now. Enjolras is looking at him.

"We've talked about what you want," Enjolras says. "Now let's talk about what you need."

 

9.

Boundaries.

What Grantaire needs are boundaries.

"You can't let me get away with anything," Grantaire says. "No mercy, no being understanding. You can't give me an inch. If I put a foot out of line, I need you to make sure it goes right back in line."

Enjolras is still looking at him.

"It's a bit high-maintenance," Grantaire allows. He hates that he is, it's been a deal-breaker before. "I'm not the kind of submissive you can trust that far off the leash. Most of the time, I'll obey very well, or I'll at least try. But the other times... when I push, I do it because I need to feel you pushing back. Don't let me get away with anything. I need to feel your control. I need you to push back." He bets Enjolras's last submissive was perfect. He bets Enjolras's last submissive could be trusted not to fuck up. He bets Enjolras's submissive only needed a collar to remind them of Enjolras's control.

Then again, Enjolras isn't with that last submissive. Enjolras is with Grantaire.

"I need you to be a complete asshole and utter controlling dick," Grantaire says. "I need you to put the fear of god into me. Well, the fear of you."

Enjolras says, "I can do that."

 

10.

Submitting is hard. It always is, at the beginning. Grantaire used to trust easily, but that instinct got destroyed a long time ago. He trusts Enjolras not to hurt him unnecessarily, he trusts Enjolras not to try to have sex with him, he trusts Enjolras more than he's trusted any dominant in years.

But going down is always hard the first time. Because he doesn't _know_. He doesn't have the experience to draw on, to tell him that Enjolras will take care of him, that Enjolras won't overstep any bounds. He has to rely on trust and, fuck, Grantaire wishes he trusted more easily. He really does.

But he doesn't and it really sucks.

"In your own time," Enjolras murmurs, which naturally is a reminder to stop procrastinating, and Grantaire goes down to his knees.

It's not graceful. It's one more thing that's slipped away from him. He used to do this gracefully, he used to practice to make sure it looked fantastic. There's still a textbook quality to Grantaire's hand positions, resting lightly on his thighs, because he just hasn't done this enough to break out of that habit. Submissives learn their dominant's preferences, but Enjolras had just said, do what you find comfortable. So Grantaire's relying on what he knows how to do, not what he knows Enjolras likes.

He wishes he knew what Enjolras likes. He wants to be good. He really wants to be good.

"Breathe in," Enjolras prompts him, and Grantaire does. "Out," Enjolras says, and Grantaire does. Enjolras is walking around him now, his voice coming from all directions, and Grantaire quickly loses track of time as Enjolras, oh so softly, takes control of him.

He's settling, he realizes, detached. He's aware enough to be amazed. Enjolras hasn't touched him yet, but Grantaire knows who controls him. 

His hands on his thighs, his eyes lowered, and Grantaire waits. Waits for Enjolras to act, waits for Enjolras to decide what to do, waits on Enjolras because the world revolves around Enjolras now. Inhale, exhale, and it's all Enjolras. It's all Grantaire can hear, Enjolras's breaths, Enjolras's movements, Enjolras walking behind him. Everything is Enjolras right now, perfectly balanced. 

And then Enjolras is touching Grantaire's chin from behind.

"Angle this higher," he says, and nudges until Grantaire's positioned properly. Then he steps away and he has Grantaire keep breathing, ten breaths this time. In and out, and Grantaire holds the position, but his knees are starting to hurt, he hasn't done this enough, he's not strong enough, he's not--

Enjolras's thumb presses into Grantaire's jaw. "You will look at me unless I tell you otherwise. I will blindfold you if I ever don't want you to see. Your eyes will _always_ be on me until doing so would make you break position. Understood?"

Grantaire licks his dry lips. "Sir," he acknowledges.

Enjolras strokes his hand down Grantaire's neck. "Keep the position," he repeats, then steps away. He starts ordering Grantaire's breathing again, but then changes to counting, and Grantaire keeps the rhythm, and he keeps his head up, and he watches Enjolras. Enjolras, who is sitting down and watching him, and then standing up and walking around, and always checking to make sure Grantaire is watching, to make sure Grantaire is obedient, and Grantaire is, he can't stop watching.

At the count of a hundred, Enjolras comes back and runs his fingers through Grantaire's hair and tilts his head backwards and Grantaire looks up and Enjolras is smiling gently at him, smiling approvingly, and it hurts how suddenly Grantaire wants to worship the ground he walks on, and then Enjolras wipes away Grantaire's tears with his thumb.

"Excellent," Enjolras murmurs. He keeps his hand on Grantaire, but then he's behind him, and Grantaire can hear him walking, and the count starts up again, but Grantaire can't see him, and he will not fail, he refuses to fail, he can hear Enjolras, and Enjolras is controlling him, but he can't see him, _but that's okay_ , that has to be okay, Enjolras is still controlling him even though he can't see him, Enjolras is still controlling him, and his breaths are getting faster and faster, and Enjolras is back, and his legs are up against Grantaire's body, and--

"Posture," Enjolras says sharply, voice like a whip crack, and Grantaire's straightening up again, and Enjolras's hands are on his shoulders. "You will remain still," Enjolras orders him. "Now breathe out," and Grantaire does, a fast exhale, and then he starts to inhale, and Enjolras knees him in the back. "When I tell you, not before," Enjolras says. "Now, breathe in."

And Grantaire does, and he still can't see Enjolras, but maybe this is okay, maybe this is enough, with Enjolras touching him and controlling him, and not letting him forget the control, that should be enough. And it nearly is, Grantaire can feel himself falling into the headspace again, nice and comforting and so very welcome, but then Enjolras says, "pay attention to your body," and Grantaire realizes he's slumping again, and that's the point where he stands up.

It takes him longer than usual to stand up, because his knees hurt, and Enjolras isn't giving him any help. Grantaire turns around and Enjolras is looking thunderous.

"I--," Grantaire starts, but Enjolras doesn't let him finish.

"If you will not kneel, you will grovel," Enjolras says. "And if you will not go down, I will put you down."

Grantaire swallows hard. He looks Enjolras in the eye, and says, "put me down." He doesn't blink. "I need you to put me down."

And then Enjolras grabs him. 

And Grantaire doesn't fight it.

 

11.

His face against the floor, his arms trapped, Enjolras holding him down, Enjolras has him breathe again. 

Enjolras has him breathe and Grantaire can't move and he can't think. Enjolras is gripping his neck and having him breathe, and Grantaire can feel him, can't stop feeling him. Enjolras is everywhere and everything.

And it's loud now, because Enjolras is so close, Enjolras is all around him, Enjolras is thrumming with anger, so much energy contained. Grantaire is going to pay for all of this later, probably already started paying for this now, Enjolras is mad at him, and is going to make sure Grantaire knows and doesn't forget it. Enjolras is going to correct him. Enjolras is correcting him now. Grantaire was insubordinate and now Enjolras is making sure he can't be anymore. Enjolras is in control and Grantaire is not.

And he's starting to settle, with Enjolras on top of him, and it's so loud, so loud is in his head and around him, and he's going to have bruises, Enjolras's hands against his body, molding him, forcing him down into his place, and Enjolras won't let him move, and he isn't allowed to breathe without Enjolras's permission, and Enjolras is making sure he doesn't, and he's probably crying again, it's so wonderful. He never wants to move, he never wants this to end.

"It seems I'm going to have to teach you how to submit," Enjolras says from all around him. "So let's not waste time."

 

12.

Enjolras starts by having him kneel first thing every morning and last thing every night. "Ten minutes," Enjolras orders. "Kneel down and think about why you're doing this, why you need this."

A week later, Enjolras talks to Bahorel and then Grantaire finds himself with a new exercise regimen. It's close to his old one, but now it has Enjolras's fingerprints all over it. "I don't care what your body looks like," Enjolras says, "but you're doing it for me now, not just for you. And I get to have input."

Two weeks, and Enjolras comes with him to the grocery store and makes faces at Grantaire's choices, and Grantaire is prepared to argue about this, because there's submitting and then there's his favorite pretzels and he doesn't care if Enjolras thinks they're disgusting and no one civilized should eat them, this is a hill he's willing to die on, but all Enjolras does is pay for his groceries, which, wait, what? No!

"I'm paying for my own food," Grantaire says. "Not up for discussion."

"It's not your food," Enjolras says. "It's mine, too. You're making me dinner tonight. Either I pay for the raw materials or I pay you for your labor. And I already own your labor."

"I'm making you dinner?" Grantaire asks. "What, no, I'm a terrible cook. It's not good enough for you."

Enjolras shrugs. "Then you'll just have to get better, won't you?" 

"Right, of course, sir, I forgot, I'll magic up some cooking skills post-haste," Grantaire says, and Enjolras grins at him and Grantaire's breath catches and, oh, yeah, Enjolras could probably stand to learn the difference between dominant and domineering, but on the other hand, Grantaire doesn't think he's ever been more in love with anyone in his life as he is with Enjolras right now. 

"I believe in you," Enjolras says and claps him on the shoulder. But he lets Grantaire pay, because Grantaire steals Enjolras's wallet and doesn't give it back, so it's not like Grantaire is giving him a choice in the matter, and Grantaire knows he's going to get flogged for this later and will probably regret it, but he's okay with his life choices right now.

And, yeah, dinner is pretty bad, objectively speaking, but Enjolras eats it, and Grantaire totally is motivated to get better, so it's not like it isn't working.

 

13.

By three months, Grantaire can't even tell if this is submission or some kind of self-improvement thing. Enjolras has this way of just looking at Grantaire and being ever-so-slightly disappointed and Grantaire wants to just lie at his feet and roll around and present him with a dead animal that totally proves he can do better. Before, any kind of motivation didn't really long very long, only barely long enough for Grantaire to get marginally better at things. And every little bit counts, right? No, not really. It really doesn't, because then he just forgets everything and goes back to the way things were before. It was always that he never should have bothered in the first place.

But now he's got Enjolras kicking his ass if he doesn't keep at it, and Grantaire's not sure if Enjolras is his dominant or his life coach.

"Your life coach doesn't make you clean his boots," Enjolras replies, his foot in Grantaire's lap. His heel digs into Grantaire's thigh. "Stop procrastinating."

 

14.

Enjolras's friends are pretty nice. Grantaire met them the first time Enjolras went too far with the whip, and Combeferre tended to Grantaire's back while Courfeyrac distracted Enjolras. Once Grantaire'd been able to move without pain, he'd been properly introduced. And he totally understands where Enjolras gets his domineering ways from. The three of them seem to reinforce each other in really delicious ways. If Grantaire were interested in sex, he'd probably put in an application to be their sex slave. As it is, he's more than willing to be loaned out. Would beg to be loaned out. Actually does beg to be loaned out.

So once Grantaire's proven that he won't disgrace Enjolras, Enjolras lets Combeferre and Courfeyrac know that Grantaire is available to serve them. Combeferre has him help alphabetize his bookshelf, and Courfeyrac thinks he's adorable and takes him clothes shopping, then opens up his closet and tells Grantaire to take anything he wants.

"I'm working on getting Marius to wear my clothes," Courfeyrac says. "It's an uphill battle."

"If you really wanted that, you'd buy different colors," Marius points out.

Courfeyrac waves his hand at him. "You'll come around once you realize what you look like in tight red leather pants."

Marius drops his book.

Grantaire prudently takes his leave.

 

15.

"You look happier," Bahorel says after six months.

"Well, you know what they say," Grantaire says philosophically. "The beatings continued until morale improved."

Bahorel throws food at him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Here You Come With Your Open Hands. [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998060) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton), [SomethingIncorporeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal)




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